


All Night, All Day

by htebazytook



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:58:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to Dean and Cas's argument at the end of 6.20 The Man Who Would Be King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Night, All Day

**Title:** All Night, All Day  
 **Author:** htebazytook  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** angst  
 **Disclaimer:** *disclaims*  
 **Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
 **Time Frame:** during/post 6.20 The Man Who Would Be King  
 **Summary:** Coda to Dean and Cas's argument at the end of 6.20 The Man Who Would Be King.

 

"You gotta trust me, man."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you."

"You can't, Dean. You're just a man. I'm an angel."

"I dunno, I've taken some pretty big fish."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"Well I'm sorry too, then."

Castiel fades out of Dean's sight. He stays in Bobby's living room, though. It used to be that Castiel only stayed because he was duty-bound, but with Dean he often stays because he wants to. 

Dean curses, a habit that seems to give him comfort. He slams his hand into the wall on his way back to the couch, but the fight goes out of him as he lies down again. 

Castiel steps closer. Dean stares right through him with leaden eyes, but instead of inspiring pity it gives Castiel offense – Dean is doing this to himself because he refuses to see reason. He doesn't understand the full scope of the universe he inhabits, the kind of power that exists, or Castiel's own abilities. Dean simply isn't able to fathom it. He's just a human, handicapped by his mortal perspective. It isn't Dean's fault, but it is . . . frustrating.

Castiel wants so fiercely to end this tension. He can easily envision himself throwing away all his painstakingly laid plans just to regain Dean's trust. He won't do that, can't for the sake of heaven and earth, but his willingness to feels frightening. 

Castiel kneels by the couch. It brings him close enough to Dean to feel the heat of his body, smell his skin and the whisky on his breath, pretend that they are not in conflict.

"Cas?"

Castiel lifts his head, having materialized without deciding to – the unintentional emotions that override his plans too often anymore.

Dean's expression reads regret, better than disappointment but far from ideal. He swallows. "I'm guessing you haven't come to your senses in the last five minutes."

Castiel turns away from his weight of his gaze. He places a hand on Dean's chest, trails it down slowly and hears Dean's pulse speed up. "Is this still permitted?" Looks to him.

Dean is nodding, looking beautifully dizzied by the promise of physical affection already – he catches Castiel's coat and draws him closer, hand in Castiel's hair to drag him downward into a kiss. 

Dean's mouth is so unexpectedly soft and pliant, exactly the same as before and that is encouraging. He makes small contented sounds when Castiel's lips move against his. Tilts his head, sucks on Castiel's top lip and licks along the bottom and kisses the corner and his chin and jaw, tries to laugh but it comes out rough around the edges. "I was starting to think this was a one time thing."

Castiel kisses him harder, hating the sound of his voice colored so cynically. Dean makes a delirious little noise, grip on Castiel's coat tightening and tongue pushing into Castiel's mouth. Castiel sucks on it until Dean whines and rolls his hips up involuntarily, then concentrates on kissing Dean's neck and listening to his jagged breathing.

Dean angles his head to give Castiel better access. "You wanna fuck me again?"

"No."

Castiel gets to his feet, enjoying the way Dean's eyes rake over him before lifting Dean up into a sitting position. Dean licks his lips and leans so Castiel pins him back against the back of the couch with a thought, which earns him a grin and a breathless laugh, rapt eyes and a throaty, "C'mere, Cas."

Castiel runs his hands up Dean's thighs, works his jeans open and pulls them down along with his underwear. When Castiel gets onto his knees again any lingering Winchester smugness is wavering.

Castiel watches over Dean so often, has looked over his shoulder countless times and catalogued which pornographic images make him go wide-eyed and pump himself faster and orgasm. He keeps this in mind as he sucks Dean's cock, glancing up at him and watching Dean's chest heave, feeling him harden under his tongue. 

When Castiel takes him in deep Dean's mouth hangs open and his heart rate quickens, and when Castiel swallows around him Dean swears and cants his hips up slightly. Castiel repeats the motion a couple of times and Dean's hands scrabble at Castiel's shoulders, mouthing breathless pleas for more. Castiel pulls off to suck on the tip, then bobs faster and hollows his cheeks and swipes his tongue against the hard flesh until Dean mutters, "I'm gonna come, oh Jesus Christ so close, Cas, you're perfect - I'm gonna – I'm - " and hot fluid hits the back of Castiel's throat.

Castiel swallows it because that is apparently how it's done. He wipes the spit and errant ejaculate from his mouth but has little time to compose himself because then Dean is on his knees on the floor too, gathering Castiel up into a kiss that knocks the needless breath out of him. 

Dean kisses him onto his back on the hardwood floor, but Castiel doesn't notice the discomfort because Dean is tearing his clothes off, pausing to taste every newly bared patch of skin. When he rips Castiel's shirt apart it sends buttons flying, and when he finally gets Castiel's underwear off he nudges Castiel's legs apart to make room and takes Castiel's cock in his mouth with a groan.

The heat of it seems boundless, wet and snug and like lightning when Dean uses his tongue. Castiel's vision shorts out, followed by his brain and his ability to keep quiet as sensations assault him – one of Dean's hands covers Castiel's mouth while the other grips the base of Castiel's cock. Castiel doesn't know how long it is before he comes, but when he does Dean echoes his moans and sucks him gently afterward like he's determined to pull every last drop of everything from him. 

Dean rolls onto his back on the floor, sighing. "Shit." Castiel has given up on understanding Dean's use of swear words – they mean frustration as much as triumph or apathy. Dean's eyes close. "Fuck. Okay, look. I _get_ you're only trying to do the right thing, here, Cas, but . . . Cas? What the - _Cas_?"

Castiel, now hidden, looks down on him on the floor, endures it when Dean stands and stares past him again. 

Dean rubs his eyes. "What the hell, man." He puts his clothes back into a poor semblance of order and collapses onto the couch face down. After a minute there's a sharp heave of his shoulders. When he turns his head against the cushions his expression is resigned.

Castiel waits until Dean falls asleep, feeling choked by words that still won't fix whatever had broken between them. But Dean will understand, in the end. Castiel knows it. Well, he believes it.

He leaves.

*


End file.
